Hewitt

Family
1: a group of individuals living under one roof and usually under one head.
2: a group of persons of common ancestry; a people or group of peoples regarded as deriving from a common stock.
3: a group of people united by certain convictions or a common affiliation.

Friend
1: one attached to another by affection or esteem.
2: one that is not hostile; one that is of the same nation, party, or group
3: one that favors or promotes something (as a charity)
4: a favored companion

Companion
1 : one that accompanies another; also one that keeps company with another
2: one that is closely connected with something similar; one employed to live with and serve another

Pet
1 a : a pampered and usually spoiled child;a person who is treated with unusual kindness or consideration
2 : a domesticated animal kept for pleasure rather than utility

By these definitions, our cat Hewi was friend, family, companion, and pet. This marks the second anniversary of the day (August 9, 2004) that we had to put him to sleep because he had cancer. I still miss him tremendously.

We got Hewi in 1999, preceding our move to Ohio. We also got Chloe, his mother. Hewi was around 4 months when we got him, and immediately because an integral part of our lives with his sparkling personality and antics.

I remember he was fascinated with doing the dishes, and when someone stood at the kitchen sink doing the dishes, he would climb up your legs and back (this was not as painful as it sounded since he would usually jump to a clothed part of your body and since he only weighed a pound) and perch over your shoulder and watch excitedly while you washes the dishes. I never figured out exactly what was so exciting.

He would also fall asleep in the strangest places, I have a picture of him sleeping on top of my husband's sneakers, that could not have been comfortable.

When we moved to Ohio, Hewi became my best friend. Might sound strange, but I did not know anyone there, my husband was at a job in Boston, so Hewi and Chloe (she of the absence of personality) were the only ones I knew. Everyday when I got home from work, Hewi would run to the front door as he heard the key in the lock, then run excitedly to his scratching post to scratch. The post had a bell on the top and it would jingle excitedly as he welcomed me home.

Hewi was a cat who thought he was a dog, I could take him on walks on his leash, he played fetch, and he loved water. He would wait while you took a shower and as soon as the water stopped, he would jump on the shower and try to catch the drops of water falling down the shower curtain. Sometimes I would stop up the drain and fill the tub with a half inch of water, then he would get it and splash around.

He also loved trash cans and sometimes I would come home and find the bathroom trash can overturned and the contents sprawled out. We got trash cans with lids.

He was a shoulder cat. At 19 pounds and two feet long, he could stretch around your neck, with his head and arms hanging on one side and his legs hanging on the other side, like a mink stole. He would stay there, purring like crazy, until I had to remove him because the weight was making my neck hurt.

He had the best expressions. He used his ears to great effect and when something intrigued him, he would rotate the ears forward like little satellite dishes, to hear better before he acted.

He was smart. All I had to do was say his name once, in a certain tone, and he would come running from wherever he was in the house and go to the back door 'cause he knew it meant he was getting to go outside on his leash. He loved going outside so much that if you let him out, he would immediately roll around on the ground, purring in ecstasy.

He loved milk. He knew the sound of the milk jug coming out of the fridge (whatever that was??? I never figured out how he knew that) and would run immediately over and begin meowing frantically, as if it were his only food in days.

We knew something was wrong when he stopped eating. In the space of six weeks he went from normal to terminally ill. We had one last weekend with him after we knew there was no hope. I slept with him on the porch, because Chloe had become aggressive towards him. He was all shaved from the various test they had done and you could tell he was not himself. We spent a lot of time outdoors where he loved being. Then on Monday morning we put him to sleep and then buried him in the back yard.

Oddly, Chloe never seemed to mourn or to miss him, but for days, our dog knew something was wrong with me, since I was crying all the time.

R.I.P. little guy, best pet I ever had. I was so lucky to have you. Thank you for all the joy you brought me.